


Exactly What I Wanted

by SweetAliss



Series: Beautiful Smile [1]
Category: Bandom, The Academy Is...
Genre: F/M, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetAliss/pseuds/SweetAliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hair is long, falling past his shoulders in gentle waves, and when the lights flash I can see that it’s golden brown.  I instantly want to run my fingers through it, and I let myself entertain brief fantasies of holding on and pulling it hard while he fucks me.  He’s super skinny with legs that go on for miles, and he’s so pretty he could almost be mistaken for a girl at first glance.  He’s just the thing I’m looking for tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exactly What I Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Porn with very little plot, set in the days of Bill Beckett's gloriously long hair and skin-tight jeans.

Walking into the club, I have a strong sense of nostalgia. I’ve never been here before, but I’ve been to dozens of places like it – although, not in a couple years. The club is crowded with ridiculously scene kids dancing to some remixed pop music. The music and the clothes have changed a bit since I frequented these places, and it’s gonna take some getting used to. I’m only in Chicago for a week, and I’m staying with my friend, so I borrowed these clothes from her. She’s way more into the whole emo scene thing than I am, and now I understand the outfit she tried to get me to wear – a bright green tutu skirt and zebra-striped tank. Scanning the room, I see at least a dozen of the same skunk-striped extensions she tried to push off on me. I’m suddenly very glad I got away with a black mini and lace-up tube top she made from some old Fall Out Boy t-shirt (one of her bands, although I’ll admit they’re pretty good).  
  
I take in the atmosphere – trendy but fun – and make a beeline for the bar. I’m here because Becca, my friend, said the people are friendly and they don’t card. I drink a little, dance a little, drink a little more. I’m on my third Long Island iced tea (it’s their specialty, and for some reason, it’s blue) when I see him. He’s leaning against the wall by the bar, talking to a couple other guys, laughing. His smile is the first thing I notice. God, he’s got a beautiful smile.  
  
I take in the rest of his appearance. His hair is long, falling past his shoulders in gentle waves, and when the lights flash I can see that it’s golden brown. I instantly want to run my fingers through it, and I let myself entertain brief fantasies of holding on and pulling it hard while he fucks me. He has cat eyes, wide and almost almond-shaped, although it’s too dark to make out the color. His entire outfit looks like it could belong to a teenage girl – a fitted red Doors t-shirt that rides up to show a strip of pale skin underneath, and skintight bell bottom jeans that ride so low I can see his sharp hip bones above the waistband. And curiously, there’s a bandana tied around one knee. He’s super skinny with legs that go on for miles, and he’s so pretty he could almost be mistaken for a girl at first glance. He’s just the thing I’m looking for tonight.  
  
Then he looks over and catches me staring. When he doesn’t look away, I smile at him coyly and raise my glass in a little ‘cheers’, and he raises his in return. I don’t take my eyes off him as I finish my drink. One of his friends waves a hand in front of his face, and I laugh because apparently I’ve distracted him enough to lose track of the conversation they were having. His friend, who has lots of curly blonde hair and a nice ass, follows his gaze. When he sees me, he gives the pretty boy a knowing smile and shoves him playfully.  
  
I finish my drink and set it down, and then I back toward the dance floor, inclining my head invitingly before turning away. When I glance back over my shoulder, he’s pushing off the wall and handing his glass to his friend. I don’t look back again, just head into the thick of the crowd and start moving to the music – a decent rock song I know from a few years back, one I’ve danced to at more than a few clubs just like this one.  
  
It’s not thirty seconds before he slides up behind me, long fingers curling around my hips as he quickly picks up the beat and moves with me. Soon, I step back and lean into his body heat, pressing my back all along his front. His hands move from my hips to slide up my sides, all the way up my arms, which are raised above my head. His fingers link with mine and as they come down, I drape my arms around his neck, dropping my head back onto his shoulder.  
  
“Hi,” I whisper-shout over the music. “I’m Kara.”  
  
“Bill. How ya doin’ tonight?”  
  
“Mmm, better now.”  
  
“Me, too.” His voice is silky smooth and he speaks right in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.  
  
I smile to myself and grind my ass back against him, making my intention crystal clear. His hands are on my stomach, long fingers splayed over my skin, sliding up just under the hem of my shirt. I’m starting to sweat a little from the dancing and the heat of everyone pressed close around me, and his hands slide over my flat stomach. I know I’m too thin, and too tall, but so is he; in my heels I’m just shy of six feet, and he’s still a few inches taller. And I think his hips might actually be narrower than mine. He’s just my type.  
  
I feel his lips graze my neck, just a light brush, like he’s asking permission, and I tilt my head further to the side in answer. Then he’s kissing my neck, pushing my hair out of the way to lick the salt off my skin, and one of his hands is sliding up, up, palming my tit through the thin shirt. I moan, reaching back to put one hand on his hip, and I can feel him starting to get hard in those tight-tight jeans. He’s groping me on the dance floor, in the middle of a couple hundred sweaty, writhing bodies while the heavy beat of the music vibrates through my body, and it’s so wonderfully dirty. I’m in heaven, I’m home, I’m just where I wanted to be.  
  
After a couple of songs that segue seamlessly into each other (in the back of my mind I’m thinking, this place has a decent deejay), we’re both breathing heavily and practically dry humping. I’m so wet – a fact he discovers when he slides one hand up my skirt, rubbing lightly over my panties. They’re lace, and don’t do much to conceal the abundant moisture. He groans when he feels it.  
  
“Christ, Kara.” I nod mindlessly. He starts to slide his hand down inside my panties, and at first all I can think is, yes please. Then I realize I’m flashing my black lace underwear to everyone in the club, and I mean, I might possibly be a little bit of an exhibitionist, but I don’t want to get kicked out or anything. I grab his wrist, pulling it away. He whines a little, and I giggle.  
  
I lay my head on his shoulder again. “It’s really hot in here, I think maybe I need to cool down. Wanna go outside and grab a smoke with me?”  
  
“Oh, you little tease.”  
  
“Bite your tongue, Bill. I just don’t wanna flash everyone here. I generally keep my shit a little more private than that.”  
  
He sighs. “Fair enough.”  
  
“Smoke?”  
  
“Yeah, just. Stay in front of me til we get out of the crowd. These jeans aren’t really made for hiding, uh…stuff.” I giggle again and tangle our fingers together, turning toward the entrance.  
  
He pulls me back. “Back door’s closer.” He points to the little hallway where the bathrooms are. I lead us down the hallway and through the door marked ‘EXIT’. We come out on a little iron balcony with stairs leading down to the alley below. As soon as the door shuts behind us, the noise is reduced to a low thumping.  
  
There’s a small pocket on my skirt that holds the essentials of a night out: lipstick, cash, drivers’ license, condoms, etc. There’s also a pack of cigarettes – good, imported ones – and from it I pull out a fat joint and a lighter. I raise an eyebrow at Bill as I light up, challenging him to say something. Instead, he grins and leans down to pull something out of the folds of the bandana around his knee.  
  
Inhaling deeply, I watch him unscrew the top of the little silver vial and pull out a not-so-little scoop of insidious looking white powder. His long hair falls over his face as he sniffs it, and then another scoop. I can no longer resist the urge to touch that pretty hair, and I reach over and tuck it behind his ear, running my fingers through it. It’s even softer, silkier than it looks. I smile and offer him the joint, which he accepts gratefully. His pupils are growing already, but his smile’s almost lazy.  
  
“Nice shirt, by the way.” There’s something a little odd about the way he says it – not mocking exactly, but a little teasing.  
  
“Um, thanks. I uh, borrowed it from my friend I’m staying with.”  
  
“Oh. Well, I like her taste.”  
  
He holds out the little silver vial to me. I hesitate.  
  
“It’s good,” he says, smile widening and curving up darkly. “Really good.”  
  
Now that he’s not competing with the music to be heard, I realize his voice is soft. It’s kind of soothing, and sweet. It makes me think of lying in the grass and watching the clouds, of laughing and catching fireflies – although that could be the first tendrils of my high. Becca gets the best weed.  
  
“Oh, fuck it. Why the hell not?” I take him up on his very generous offer and have a couple hits of the – oh yes, he was right, very good – coke. Almost immediately, my skin is humming and I have that familiar sense of exhilaration. It combines really well with the pot.  
  
When I hand him back the silver vial, he bends to tuck it away again, and in the process of coming back up, he purposefully grazes my chest with his cheek and turns to lick a stripe from the top of my shirt, all the way up my neck. I shiver and reach out to pull him closer, and he turns my face to blow a big hit of smoke right into my mouth. I can’t help but giggle because it’s been a while since I’ve been shot-gunned, but then he’s right back on my neck, sucking and licking and doing altogether wonderful things.  
  
“God, you taste so good,” he says into my skin. I moan in reply and he slips one leg between mine.  
  
When I blow the smoke out, I wrap one hand in his long hair and pull him up for a kiss. Even after everything that happened on the dance floor, it’s our first real kiss. His lips are every bit as sweet as they look, and they slide over mine, firm but tender – too tender. Fuck that, I think, and twist my hand roughly in his hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. When I pull his hair, his breath hitches and he goes still for a split second. I press my advantage and lick into his mouth, coaxing him into action.  
  
We fight for control of the kiss after that, and it’s just fucking what I’ve been missing. Goddamn, it’s been way too long since I was kissed like this. I move down to his neck, feeling like I’ll die if I take my mouth away from his skin. He takes advantage of the opportunity to score a couple more hits off my joint, which, miraculously, hasn’t gone out. He passes it to me in order to free up both hands so he can run them up and down my body, and I smoke a little more, too. Then I go back to kissing him. He’s a really good kisser.  
  
I feel myself blush a little when I realize I said that out loud. Fuck, I’m wasted. My brain’s floating on alcohol, but my senses are sharp and crisp from the coke. The weed makes me feel like I’ve got a hundred times more nerve endings than usual. It feels so good, I feel so good, that I can’t help but laugh a little. I might feel bad, worry about offending him or something, but he’s right there with me. He smiles into my neck, nodding in agreement.  
  
He’s devouring every inch of skin from my jaw to the top of my shirt. It’s a blur of impressions, of teeth on bone, tongue against racing pulse, soft lips on sensitized skin. His touch is firm and sure, and he’s hot and hard against my hip, scorching through our clothes. I’m desperate to see him, touch him, taste him. His long hands slide up my thighs, under my skirt, inching toward my panties. Just before he reaches his goal, I stop him with a hand on his chest and a protesting sound.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
He actually whines a little. “Fuck, are you kidding? You said you’re not a tease.” It comes out a tiny bit accusatory.  
  
I hand him the joint back, smiling darkly, and wait until he takes a hit to drop my hands to his belt, working the buckle loose fast. “I’m not. There’s just something I want to do first.” I brush my lips lightly over his before bending to kiss his flat stomach below the too-small shirt, making quick work of the buttons on his jeans. He chokes on the smoke he was trying to hold in.  
  
Crouching low, catcher-style to avoid putting my bare knees on the stamped metal, I nip at one sharp hip bone before roughly pushing his pants down enough to free his cock. I gasp. Long and lean and pale, like the rest of him; it’s fucking beautiful.  
  
He chuckles breathlessly. “Thanks.” Shit, I must have said that last part out loud. Again. I can’t bring myself to care much, though. I’m too busy licking my lips and staring hungrily at Bill’s leaking hard-on.  
  
“Shit, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long, you seriously have no idea.” I stare up at him as I lick across the head, gathering the slick precum on my tongue. My eyes slip shut in ecstasy at the taste.  
  
I wrap my lips around him and suck, inching my way down. It’s been a while – more than a while – but I know I’m good at this. I wrap my hands around his hips, short nails digging into his ass, and he groans loudly. His fingers thread through my hair to hold my head as his hips jerk shallowly. I can tell he’s trying to hold still, but can’t. I squeeze his ass to urge him on, tell him it’s okay. He thrusts a little deeper, and I hum around him in satisfaction, making him curse. I force my throat to relax and take him in nearly all the way.  
  
It’s way too soon when he pulls back sharply, tugging on my hair when I try to follow him. “Fuck, I’m gonna – ”  
  
I shake my head. “Not yet.” I rise to my feet, wiping my mouth. “Want you, Bill.” My voice is hoarse, raw-sounding.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Without breaking eye contact, I reach down and squeeze his dick hard. “Fuck me.” His eyes widen. I still can’t see what color they are; his pupils are completely blown. “Now,” I add a second later, because he hasn’t moved yet and I’m impatient as hell.  
  
He snaps out of it. “Yeah. Yeah.”  
  
He pulls a condom out of his back pocket. While he opens the package and rolls it on, I reach under my skirt to slide my panties down and off. They’re still wrapped around the ankle of one tall boot when Bill steps forward, pressing against my body, and kisses me, hard and urgent. He lifts one of my legs and lines himself up with the other hand, and then, thank god, he’s finally inside me.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, and he echoes my words.  
  
“Shit, you’re tight. Oh my god, you feel fucking amazing.”  
  
I laugh breathlessly. “Goddamn, Bill, you too.”  
  
The slide, the feeling of being filled, it’s all incredible, but I want more. I want it deeper, harder – I want to be fucking impaled. Only, he’s really skinny, and I may be skinny too, but I’m still not sure he would be strong enough. I have to ask, though.  
  
“Think you can hold me up?”  
  
He nods quickly. “No problem.” He reaches down to grab my ass with both hands and lifts me up. Wow, yeah. He’s totally strong enough. I wrap my legs around his waist and he presses me harder into the wall. He’s slipped out of me in the process, but when he pushes in again, I sink down…and down…and down. Fuck, he’s perfect.  
  
He kisses down my neck while he fucks me, and I’m raised up enough for him to reach my chest if he ducks his head a little. I pull my shirt down to expose my tits to the night air, and he moans as he sucks on my nipple. I cry out when he uses his teeth, trying in vain to push down, but I can’t really move in this position.  
  
“Harder, god, fuck me hard, Bill. I need it.”  
  
He lifts me a little and bites down on my nipple one more time for good measure, then drops me down while he thrusts up into me hard. I throw my head back, hitting the wall, and curse loudly. And then he’s giving it to me just the way I like it, and I can’t help the huge grin that splits my face, so wide it hurts. The angle, fuck, the angle’s perfect, he’s rubbing against my g-spot roughly with every thrust.  
  
I can’t last long – his dick is perfect, and he’s fucking me beautifully, and it’s been so long, I was aching for it so bad. I look back at him, and the look on his face is pure fucking ecstasy.  
  
“God, you’re gorgeous.” His cat’s eyes open and he looks back at me, and I tangle one hand in his long hair and guide him into another kiss. It’s messy and our teeth click together but then we’re smiling into each other’s mouths.  
  
“Shit, shit, close,” I moan desperately. He goes faster, and a few seconds later, I’m coming hard, crying out a string of curses, and I’m pretty sure his name is somewhere in there, too.  
  
“Fucking Christ.” He starts to lose his rhythm when I clench involuntarily around him, my legs tight around his waist. His hair is still wrapped around my fist, and I pull hard until his head falls back and lean in to bite his neck. He keens and stills beneath me, and I feel him pulsing inside as he comes.  
  
As his body starts to relax, I can feel the muscles in his arms shaking, and I let go of his waist so he can put me down. He pulls off the condom and drops it over the railing before shimmying his jeans back up over his hips. I can’t help but giggle, and he stops doing up the buttons long enough to flip me off – which only serves to make me laugh harder. Behind his curtain of hair, I can see a tiny smile on his lips.  
  
By the time he finishes with his pants and leans against the wall next to me, I’m lighting a cigarette. I offer him one, and he bites his lip, looking conflicted. The gesture draws my attention to his mouth, and I can’t help kissing him again, slow and lazy and sated now. When I pull away I offer him the cigarette again.  
  
“Here, try mine, it’s really good. They’re imported.” He does as I say, and raises his eyebrows in surprise. When I offer him one again, he accepts. We smoke in silence for a few minutes.  
  
“Shit,” he mumbles, looking away.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I put the joint on the railing, and it fell over the side.”  
  
“’s okay. Want another one?”  
  
He nods, tucking his hair behind his ear. For some reason, the gesture is extremely endearing. The coke’s mostly worn off, and I’m left with the remains of the pot-and-alcohol buzz. Combined with the good cigarette and great orgasm, it’s bliss. I fish out another joint and light it, handing it to him.  
  
We pass it back and forth a few times in another comfortable silence. When he opens his mouth, I’m expecting him to say, ‘See you later’, or, if he’s really considerate, ‘Wanna get something to eat?’.  
  
What I’m not expecting is, “So, did you enjoy the show?”  
  
I laugh. Hard. “Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”  
  
He laughs too. “I mean earlier. The Academy show.”  
  
“Academy?” Now I’m confused. My fuzzy brain struggles to make sense of the question. Academy…wait. Oh, fuck. “Holy shit. You don’t go to the academy, do you? Please fucking tell me you’re not still in high school.”  
  
“Uh…no. Um, the concert? My concert?”  
  
“Oh, you’re in a band?”  
  
I look over to find him staring at me incredulously. “You don’t know who I am?”  
  
I raise my eyebrows. “Wow, pretentious much?”  
  
“I mean. It’s just, I thought…I’m William Beckett. From The Academy Is…?”  
  
I shake my head. “Sorry.” He looks dumbfounded, and a little hurt. “Are you, like, popular? Like on the radio and stuff?”  
  
“We – I mean, yeah. Our album’s on Billboard. A few videos on MTV. We’re about to do Warped Tour for the second time. Headlining tour last year…We’re on Fueled By Ramen. Our first tour was with Fall Out Boy, for Christ’s sakes! You’re wearing a Fall Out Boy shirt!” He’s getting really worked up. It’s kind of funny.  
  
“Dude, I’m sorry! I don’t know who you are. I told you, this is my friend’s shirt. I know Fall Out Boy, but I don’t, like, listen to them a lot.”  
  
“But…you said you’ve been wanting this for so long.”  
  
“Well, yeah, but like. Not you specifically. Just, I haven’t been with a guy in a really long time.”  
  
Now it looks like his fuzzy brain is trying to understand. It’s cute, so I don’t clarify. “Oh…Are you like, bi? Have you been in a relationship with a chick for a while, or something?”  
  
“No. Well I mean, yeah, I’m bi, but. I haven’t been with anyone in more than two years.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’ve been living on an ashram in Nepal since the beginning of 2004.”  
  
“…Seriously?” I nod, grinning at the look on his face. It’s like, shock mixed with confusion. “What’s an ashram?”  
  
“It’s like, a commune but with more meditation and stuff.”  
  
He gaped. “Like a monastery?”  
  
I laugh. “No, it’s not like something you devote your life to. It’s just a community of people who take care of each other. And where I lived, there was no sex or drugs or like, partying. They’re not all like that, but. Mine is.”  
  
“Holy shit, okay. I’m kind of having a hard time wrapping my head around this. Can you like, elaborate?”  
  
“Well, when I was a kid, I partied a lot. Started in junior high. Kinda cliché stuff, you know. Sex, drugs, rock and roll. My parents couldn’t really control me…I uh, did some stupid shit. Got myself pregnant when I was sixteen and had to have an abortion. Then I ended up in the hospital at the beginning of senior year because I mixed too many different drugs together. That was pretty much the last straw for my parents. They sent me off to live with my aunt and uncle in Nepal, and I finished high school online. I turned eighteen a month after I got there, but my parents knew I wouldn’t be able to afford to come home unless they paid for it. They thought it would be the worst punishment ever – and so did I – but I really loved it there. So, I just stayed. For more than two years.”  
  
He’s quiet for a minute, processing. “Holy shit,” he says again. “This is the first time you’ve been back?”  
  
“Yup. Flew in this morning. I came to Chicago first because my best friend is going to school here now, and I wanted to see her more than my mom and dad.”  
  
“So…this is the first time you’ve gone out in…two years?” He’s clearly still having a hard time comprehending it all. Which is fair, all things considered.  
  
I nod. “I slept all day. Becca had to cover for a friend at work tonight. I woke up like an hour before she had to leave and I was just dying to get out and party. Experience all the things I’ve been missing, you know? I loved my life on the ashram, but there’s still a part of me that misses all this stuff. So, she recommended this place, and here I am.”  
  
“And, um. This is the first time you’ve, uh…”  
  
“Had sex or done drugs since I was seventeen. Yup.”  
  
“Oh my god. I mean, just. Holy shit.” He goes quiet again. “So when you saw me at the bar, you really didn’t know who I was. You just – ”  
  
“Thought you were pretty. Wanted you. Yeah, that’s pretty much it. You looked like my type. I really like your hair.”  
  
“Uh. Thanks?” He shakes his head. “This is all just. Really crazy.”  
  
“Yeah, I can sorta understand that.”  
  
“Jesus, so this was your first – I’m the first guy you’ve…”  
  
“Don’t make it sound like I was some kind of virgin, Bill. It’s just been a while.”  
  
“Yeah, but. It was something you’ve been thinking about for a long time. Right?”  
  
“Well, yes…”  
  
“And I just – god, out here, just like that, that’s so…crude. I mean, if I’d known, I would have tried to make it, like, better for you.”  
  
I laugh. “Trust me, honey, it was awesome for me. Exactly what I needed.”  
  
“But still, like. It should have been more…I don’t know, special or something.” He turns to me quickly. “Let me make it up to you.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Give me another chance.”  
  
“You don’t have anything to – ”  
  
“Please? I feel really bad. I feel like an asshole.”  
  
“You’re not. You’re a sweetie.”  
  
He pushes my hair back, kisses me softly. “Come on,” he says, his voice a low purr. His lips go to my neck, and when he speaks again, his breath is hot on my skin. “I want to give you everything you’ve been wanting for the last two years. Please, let me.”  
  
I would be a fucking idiot to turn down an offer like that from a guy like this.  
  
“Yeah, okay.”  
  
“Awesome.” He keeps nibbling my neck for a minute, like he can’t make himself stop. When he pulls away, though, there are little frown lines between his eyebrows. “We’ll have to get a hotel room, though. I’m staying with some friends while we’re in town, and I don’t exactly have a lot of privacy there.”  
  
I shake my head. “It’s alright, we can go to Becca’s. She’ll be gone until morning.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m sure it’s more comfortable than a hotel. And there’s like, drinks and music and my clothes are there.”  
  
“Okay.” He pushes himself off the wall and holds out his hand for me. Of course, the door locked behind us, so we take the stairs and walk around to the front of the club. Bill hails us a taxi and I give the guy Becca’s address.


End file.
